


Wake Up

by Thalius



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, More angst, and some fluff, especially Shiro and Allura, space mice love to set people up on dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7813228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalius/pseuds/Thalius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro doesn't get a lot of sleep these days, but then neither does Allura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Wake (me) up inside
> 
> (Can't wake up)
> 
> Please enjoy.

Little feet are on his face. And pulling at his hair.

He isn't really asleep to begin with, but the interruption isn't entirely welcome, either. He sighs and opens his eyes, and his vision is filled with yellow fur.

"What?" he groans, and swipes at the mouse. It's with his right hand, unthinking, and the creature takes a hard tumble off his face and down onto the mattress.

His heart jumps in panic and quickly looks over at the mouse. It looks unharmed, thankfully, but the twist of guilt in his gut is no less severe.

"I'm sorry—I didn't—" He reaches for the mouse— _left hand, always left—_ but it shrinks away, squeaking at him in alarm.

"I'm sorry," he says again, sitting up in bed and careful not to jostle the creature. He wipes at his face and pushes the hair out of his eyes. "What…. is something wrong?"

It chirps at him again, already unconcerned with his rough greeting, and waves a paw towards the door before bolting off the bed; a signal to follow it.

He gets out of bed and slips on a shirt, padding off in the direction the mouse went. There aren't any sirens blaring, so there's no one attacking, and he would have received an official briefing from Allura if they had a new mission. That leaves low-level issues and… pranks. He keeps his guard up when he steps out of his quarters.

The mouse leads him on close to a ten minute walk through the castle. Asking what was going on only gets him an annoyed squeak that he figures is a command to hurry up, so Shiro resolves himself to silence for the rest of the journey.

The mouse finally stops in a small antechamber before a large closed door. It presses a tiny hand to the metal and squeaks up at him.

"In there?" he asks, and the mouse nods. He shrugs and palms open the door.

The room is large and domed. There's no furniture or equipment, and its entirely empty save for one person.

"Princess?" He takes a cautious step into the room. She's lying in the middle of the floor, staring up at the steel blue ceiling. She's still wearing her bed clothes, and there's another spike of panic when he wonders if she passed out. She's still recovering from her work with the Balmera, and then everything that had happened with the ship, and her father—

The fear immediately fades when she jerks and sits up. She wipes at her face, trying in vain to hide tears that track down her cheeks. "Shiro? Is there something you need?" Her voice is all business, removing any trace of emotion. If he wasn't looking at her face, he wouldn't have known there to be anything wrong at all.

He takes another step into the room, and the mouse squeaks in approval behind him. "The uh—the mouse, brought me here," he says, then winces out how odd that must sound.

There are a lot of things he says that don't make sense, these days.

"Oh." Allura shoots a glare past his ankle, and he doesn't have to look back to see the mouse shrink into itself under her gaze. "That wasn't necessary," she continues, clearly not speaking to him. "I'm perfectly fine."

"I can leave—"

"I hope he didn't—"

They both pause and break off. He looks away, and she smiles. "I hope he didn't wake you," she finishes.

He shakes his head. "Not at all. Can't sleep."

"I am having the same problem. Come sit, then." She taps the floor beside her and turns around, and he doesn't have much choice but to comply.

_An easy order to follow._

He sits cross-legged beside her and looks to where she's staring. There's a vacant, slightly raised pedestal sitting a few feet in front of them, and he realises with a start that she's in the room where her father's AI had been housed.

"I'm sorry you were forced to shut down your father's AI," he begins slowly. He doesn't really know what to say—never been great at these things.

"I am as well," she sighs, and rests her chin on her knees. "I miss him already. I know that it's not him, but—this was my last connection to Altea." She picks at a seam in her dress. "Just another thing the Galra have taken."

He looks down at his arm. "I—um…." He trails off when she looks at him, wondering if what he's about to say is ridiculous or patronising, but she smiles at him in encouragement. "Earth's still out there, as far as I know, and my family's still safe—as far as I know—but I know what it's like, to some extent, to miss home." He looks towards the pedestal, because it's easier than looking at her. Allura's gaze cuts through everything and leaves him feeling exposed. "To have things taken from you."

Her fingers wrap around his right arm without warning, and he forces himself not to jerk away. The touch is innocent, not meant to hurt. She looks down at his prosthetic, curiosity replacing melancholy, and he forces himself to relax.

"Can you feel this?" she asks, running a finger down the side of his arm. She still looks upset, but her voice is calm and quiet.

 _God, do I wish._ "No, not really. I can feel the movement vibrate up to my shoulder if I concentrate, but—no. It's just metal."

"Does it hurt at all, to use it?"

He shrugs, but is careful not to disrupt her hand. "Where it joins with my shoulder gets sore after fights occasionally, but it's mostly just dead weight." He laughs, a short, sharp sound that is too loud in the empty room. "Sometimes, my arm—what used to be my arm—still itches. It drives me crazy, since I can't scratch it."

Her hand drifts up to where the metal fuses with his skin, and her fingers dance between steel and flesh. He shivers at the contact, and her eyes widen at the goosebumps on his skin.

"Your skin—it's moving," she exclaimed, looking up at him.

"The little bumps are called _torihada,_ or goosebumps," he says to her. "Humans get them when they're cold. They help the keep heat inside our bodies."

"You're cold? I can turn up the internal temperature—" She pulls away from him to stand up, and he shakes his head.

"I'm not cold," he hurries to say. He doesn't want her to leave now, and the skin where her fingers used to be already feels lonely and cool.

She settles back down beside him. "Then why the gooz-bums?"

He grins. "Goosebumps. And—" His jaw works, trying to explain. "I, uh—they also happen when another person touches you. Sometimes."

"Oh." She still looks confused, but when he sees that she's not going to explore his arm any longer, he sighs and stretched his hands over his head.

She observes him stretching for a moment and then looks back to the pedestal. "I want to apologise."

"For what?"

She frowns. "For—this," she elaborates, gesturing to herself. "It's not appropriate for me to be crying in front of any of the Paladins. I'm supposed to be your guide, and I can't have you seeing me like this." She shoots a glance at the door. "Which is why I'm going to have to speak with the mice. I'm still not sure why they woke you."

He frowns back. "It's been a rough few days for all of us—especially you. I'd be surprised if you weren't upset."

"Still, you should go." She uncurls her legs from her chest and pushes off the ground to stand up. She wobbles for a moment, unsteady on her feet, and he immediately puts out a hand to bolster her.

"Here," he hears himself say, shooting to his feet and grabbing her arm. "Take it slow."

"I am _fine,"_ she protests, even as she clings to his arm. "I am perfectly capable of walking on my own."

He raises a brow at her, shooting a glance down at her death grip on the metal of his arm, and she squints back in a glare. "I am not walking yet. You are not assisting me."

"Alright," he says. "Then can I have my arm back?"

"You may." She lets go and turns around, her head held high, the very image of dignity. She takes slow steps towards the door, but manages to walk without his help. When he's certain she won't need his arm again, he falls into step beside her.

"I'm going to have to speak with the mice," she says again, to emphasise how much she does _not_ need any sort of help. "They have no business waking my Paladins for something so trivial as crying."

He ignores the quickening in his chest at the use of the possessive, and shoots her a smile. "It was worth it, though," he assures her, and she gives him a tentative smile back.

"It was," she echoes warmly.

They arrive at the door far too soon, and she looks out into the hallway. "I will let you rest now, Shiro. You have a long day of training tomorrow."

She gives him a look that makes him hold back on asking if she needs help returning to her room. "Just—if you need to talk again, let me know. By mouse or in person," he adds.

She considers his offer. "Very well. I extend the same invitation to you. Go rest—I will remain here for a few more minutes, I think. Goodnight, Paladin."

"Goodnight, Princess." He walks into the dim hallway and hears the door close behind him. She isn't done visiting with ghosts yet, it seems.

When he returns to his room, he finds himself feeling sluggish and heavy-lidded. Allura's voice replaces the oily whispers of Sendak in his ear, and he quickly, mercifully, falls into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I only used one Japanese word in this, but please let me know if it's incorrect. Sometimes the internet lies about translations.


End file.
